


when you're here loving me

by stupidloud



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hidden Relationship, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Scars, Sexual Content, Talking About Scars, im just wired that way, listen i cant not make it cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-31 18:58:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12688251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupidloud/pseuds/stupidloud
Summary: “’Look at me, I’m Keith,” Lance muttered, “’I run directly at Galra sentries and don’t even think about the big, glowy thingies in their hands. What are those called again?’” He tightened the gauze, gently despite his trying to act angry, “’Right! Guns! Can’t possibly hurt me, right?’”Keith scowled, “I know what a gun is.”✦they come back from a mission, gross and in love.





	when you're here loving me

**Author's Note:**

> i literally almost made the summary "they come back from a mission and have a love-filled boning sesh." im that kind of person. this is a lot shorter than it felt like writing but im satisfied. it was originally just scars and stuff but it snowballed im sorry @jesus.
> 
> Amazing Art Inspiration:  
> [doppii](http://doppii.tumblr.com/post/151016919409/klance-9-please) on tumblr  
> [doppii](http://doppii.tumblr.com/post/148084511479/close-i-want-you-close) on tumblr  
> Title From: Fire Meet Gasoline by Sia

“’Look at me, I’m Keith,” Lance muttered, “’I run directly at Galra sentries and don’t even _think_ about the big, glowy thingies in their hands. What are those called again?’” He tightened the gauze, gently despite his trying to act angry, “’Right! _Guns!_ Can’t _possibly_ hurt me, right?’”

Keith scowled, “I know what a gun is.”

They could have shoved him into a healing pod, but Keith didn’t like being in them, and then it’d have to be cleaned and that was a whole thing. Usually Lance, sometimes Hunk, would patch him up and go through the routine of chastising him for being a boar-headed prick (which, yes, _Hunk_ had actually called him once) and call it a day. Probably why he had the most scars out of everybody in the team. It wasn’t _intentional,_ of course, but they _acted_ like it was.

“Really? Didn’t _seem_ like it—“

He tried to hold back a grimace when Lance tucked the end in around his bicep, failing miserably. Lance cringed away, “Ah, crap, I’m—“

“It’s fine, Lance,” he interrupted in the calmest voice he could muster, grabbing and squeezing Lance’s hand, “seriously. I probably deserve it.”

Lance went back into You Idiot mode, snarling, “Damn straight you deserve it. You almost gave me a goddamn heart attack out there, _estupido_.” He let go of Keith’s hand, to slow not to regret it, and started on the scrape lower on Keith’s forearm, giving him a second before swiping it with disinfectant.

“’Hi, I’m Keith, and I like giving my boyfriend cardiac arrest.’” He pointed with the rag, “That’s you. That’s what you sound like.”

Keith rolled his eyes, groaning, “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry? _I’m_ leader, you should be apologizing to me for something—“

He arched an eyebrow, “For what? Patching you up like the loving and caring boyfriend I am?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” he threw up his free hand, frustrated, “I just don’t like when you’re mad at me.”

“I have the right,” Lance said sharply, going silent as he started building the gauze up into a bandage over the wound. Keith passed him the medical tape from the First-Aid kit.

When he finished fastening it down, Keith placed a hand over both of his, bowing his head to get closer, “I’m sorry, Lance. Really. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Obviously,” Lance said quietly, the fire extinguished. He brought his hands up and his face down to press his lips to Keith’s knuckles. Every single sharp edge Keith knew he had turned soft and so, so _weak._ This bastard was gonna make him dissolve into thin air and probably _enjoy it._ Then blame him for it.

“Welp,” he let go and gathered up all the supplies, dumping it in the First-Aid box, “I knew you were a dumbass going into this. Didn’t know it was gonna have me investing in a pacemaker earlier than planned—“

“Yes, because I’m the only one who has ever gotten myself injured during battle,” Keith said dryly, folding one leg up on the bed.

Lance kicked the box into a corner, starting to unbuckle his arm plates, “No, but you’re the one that does it the most _often._ ”

Which, _fine,_ he couldn’t argue with. He kicked off his boots, and started on his leg armor. The jump suit was already gathered around his waist from earlier. Lance had undone it while his hands were still shaking, grumbling and cursing at Keith in Spanish, before switching back to let him know what he was saying.

He started cursing now, grappling for the catch of his chest plate. Keith pushed himself to his feet and swatted his hands away, helping him out of it. Lance shrugged it off, letting it drop off the ends of his fingers.

Keith unzipped the back of the bodysuit slowly, peeling it open with his hands on Lance’s shoulder blades. A thin, white scar ran down the length of his spine, surrounded by lighter patches of skin. He’d noticed it before, but it never really clicked until now.

He tapped a knuckle against a patch spread over his shoulder, “This is from when the castle was taken over, right?”

“Hm?” Lance craned his neck to see, “Oh. Yeah, I think. The blast was pretty hot and my back was sore for, like, a month after. I didn’t think it’d scar or anything though.” He twisted his entire body now, trying to get a better look, “Is it bad?”

Keith pushed his head back and dropped a kiss on the spot, flicking his ear, “It’s perfect.” He felt goosebumps rise under his hands and stifled a smirk. He’d been getting better at making Lance flustered since he didn’t like to be the only one constantly looking like a damn tomato.

Lance shook off the sleeves and turned to him, “You’re a shit, you know that?”

“I’ve been made aware, yeah,” he kept his face as deadpan as possible, crossing his arms.

Lance stared at him, then shook his head, muttering, _“God,_ ” before putting his arms around Keith’s middle and pulling him closer. He brushed his nose against the corner of Keith’s eye.

“Careful, Lance,” his voice came out lower than he meant, but it felt okay right now, “people might start thinking you care about the shit.”

“Shits deserve a little love, too, I guess.”

Keith brought his hands up to hold Lance’s jaw, huffing, “Idiot,” before kissing him.

It still gave him a rush when Lance accepted it, melted against him and cupped Keith’s face in his hands. Keith curled a hand around the back of Lance’s neck, the other pressing against the small of his back. He ran his thumb up and down the dip of Lance’s spine, the skin there not quite raised, but definitely different than the rest. He remembered the surgically straight scar there and tapped it, barely pulling away to speak, “What’s this from?”

Lance opened his eyes dazedly and Keith absolutely did not hold back his smirk. He blinked, “What?”

“This scar,” he traced it with his fingers, “all the way down your back.”

“Oh!” He reached back to touch it, “Right. Uh, I had spinal surgery a couple years ago. Scoliosis.” It felt weird to not know something like that about Lance. Even if it didn’t affect him now, that was still… a pretty sizable thing, right? He didn’t notice he’d wrinkled his forehead until Lance poked between his eyebrows, “You’ve got constipated face. What’s up, bud?”

Keith missed a scowl, landing on a pout, “I’m not—My face isn’t—“

Lance cocked a single, uninterested eyebrow.

Keith blew his bangs off his face, leaning back on his heels, “I don’t know, it’s just weird that I didn’t know something so big about you.”

“Aw,” Lance crooned, pulling Keith close to his chest and blowing a raspberry into his cheek, “that’s so _cute,_ you wanna get to _know me_ —“

“I take it back,” he pushed at Lance’s chin, ignoring the twinge of resistance from his injured arm, “I don’t. I know you well enough—“

Lance spun him, still holding his arms so Keith was trapped with Lance hugging him from behind, “Nope! Already said it. It’s in my mind now.”

“ _Lance_ —“

“So you don’t wanna know how I got these scars?”

He swayed with Lance’s bouncing, finally deciding to bite the bullet, “ _Fine._ Okay. I want to know everything about you, happy? Can you let me go?”

“I love my little Galra stalker—“

He groaned and let his legs give out, “Death, take me now.”

Lance laughed and swung him around, hooking a hand under his knees to pick him up. Keith yelped, arms flying around Lance’s neck. And to think, this guy was yelling at him not five minutes ago. This stupidly wonderful guy.

He shook his elbow in front of the sensor for the door to open, “C’mon, we’re disgusting. Bath time, then I’ll tell you my life story.”

Keith feigned disinterest, “Bath time?”

Lance kind of stopped before turning his nose up, “The implications of your statement _disgust_ me, sir. Kindly get out of my arms.”

“Gladly,” he replied calmly and stepped down, continuing toward the bathrooms.

Lance jogged to get in front of him, continuing backwards, “I didn’t think you’d actually do it. Let me carry you again.”

“I can walk, Lance.”

“You’re injured,” he insisted, motioning toward said injury. “C’mon! Don’t be _cruel_ —“

Keith grabbed him around the waist before he could continue, pushing him on his good shoulder. It still ached with the weight, but he’d endured much more for much less.

Lance gave the expected shriek, “Ke _ith_ , you’re in _jured_ —“

“I cannot find a fuck to give with the guy I love in my arms, so I suggest you save your efforts.”

He swore he could feel the warmth from Lance’s pleased blush bleed into him, settling comfortably in his chest.

 

Lance finished toweling Keith’s hair, whipping it off with a flourish. He imagined how messy it would dry if he left it like that and combed it back with his fingers, watching Lance out of the corner of his eye. He hung the towel, and stretched his arms over his head, muscles in his back shifting.

Actually looking, he could see the more prominent ridges of the metal bars on either side of the scar. He wanted to kiss each bump.

It’d been a weird process, figuring out what he felt for Lance. At first it was anger, then annoyance, then anything else he could come up with to excuse the swirling in his head whenever Lance’d do anything. Fear was one at some point, though that one was real because Keith had had some jumbo-sized baggage about caring for people; it was part of the reason he’d even kissed Lance in the first place, because if he wouldn’t just get it over with and reject him, Keith felt he had to make him.

Didn’t work, obviously. Thank fuck. With everything that happened after, having someone there you knew would let you freak out without judgment kept him much less strung up.

God, it was a great thing he didn’t sleep talk. If Lance ever heard him say that shit unironically, he’d have a field day. No, a field _year._

“Hey,” Lance’s eyes were glittering, a shit-eating grin crinkling the corners.

Keith shook himself out. Another side effect of being alone in the desert for a year was a combo pack of creepy staring and spacing out. “Sorry, what?”

Lance didn’t answer him, still smiling as he grabbed a shirt from the dresser (that was very much not his, but it’d be hypocritical to complain). He put it on, leaving it half bunched around his waist before sitting next to Keith. His hand came up to hold Keith’s chin gently, kiss him sweetly. Their teeth clacked because Lance wouldn’t stop his Cheshire cat impression.

 “Thought you were gonna tell me your life story,” Keith said when they pulled apart for air.

“Getting to it,” Lance winked and scooted back to lay down against the pillows. He tugged at Keith’s sleeve for him to do the same, moving so he got on the left.

They settled on their sides, Lance taking Keith’s hand and placing it back on the scar. He brought his hold back up so he had his fingers splayed on either side of Keith’s neck, thumbs drumming his jaw, “So, scoliosis. My spine was basically an S for half my life,” he traces the shape on Keith’s cheek, “and they detected it pretty late so I got the surgery the summer going into junior year. I shot up like three inches and suddenly my ribs faced the right way.”

“Three inches?” Keith tried to imagine Lance that much shorter, “So, without that, you’d be shorter than me?”

Lance sniffed, “If you want to get _technical_ —“

“I do—“

“I met you senior year, therefore I’ve been taller than you since we first met, so it doesn’t count.”

He glanced behind him, “I wonder if Hunk has any pictures.”

“Okay, you know,” Lance put one hand to his chest and hooked the other one over Keith’s shoulder, “I’m pouring my soul out to you, and don’t really feel like you’re listening to the parts that don’t concern you.”

Keith blinked, “What doesn’t concern me? Sorry, wasn’t listening—“

“Ass.” Lance laughed and hooked his foot between Keith’s to pull one over his calf. “I deserve compensation. We’re doing this the twenty questions way; I give one, you give one.”

Now Keith didn’t have to act confused, “What?”

“That was one of my scars. And, I mean,” his cheeks were gradually getting darker, “I mean, only if you want to—“

“Choose one,” Keith pulled back a little bit, so Lance could get a better look. The shy look on his face gave way to a thousand watt smile like a kid on Christmas. Keith would willingly shave his head if Lance looked at him like that (not that Lance would ever ask him to) (there was a whole thing, Pidge called it a kink at some point).

He slipped his hands under Keith’s (read: Lance’s) shirt, skimming warm palms over Keith’s stomach, up his chest. He lingered briefly on the one he knew cut across Keith’s shoulder, dropping a kiss there before meeting Keith’s eyes and pushing at the shirt, just a little.

Keith half sat up to take it off. It’d barely hit the floor before Lance was scrambling to sit between his legs, excitedly pointing right under a fresh bruise across his ribs, “These.”

A triplet set of thinner discolorations, swiping down. He racked his brain quickly before remembering, already anticipating the shit he was gonna get.

“I fell into a box of cats.”

Lance snorted loudly, “You’re lying.”

“No.” He moved to plant his feet flat on the bed, “I was eight, and I was running through this marketplace back in Texas—“ Lance made a face and Keith shoved at his knee, “Shut up. You want me to tell you or not?”

Lance perched his head on the heel of his hand, waving the other one, “No, no continue. I want to get to the part where you wear a skin tight suit and seduce Batman—“

“Through this _marketplace_ back in _Texas_ ,” he repeated, “because I wanted to get to the elote stand before my friend and order both our shit to feel grown up. I looked back to see where he was, tripped over a raised brick, and fell into a giant ass box of cats. The guy selling them was yelling at me and shit, grabbed me by my shirt to pull me out and one of the cats clawed on. She, like, stayed hanging on me.”

Lance winced, “Oh, ow.”

“She still hadn’t let go when my dad caught up,” he tapped three fingers over the scars, “and I begged him to let me have her.”

Lance sat up, “You have a cat?”

“Technically, I bought a cat. We brought her home, I named her Dipper, and she just kinda does her own thing. She visited me more often my year off and I saw her the day we found Blue. Other people in the neighborhoods near the desert feed her, so I’m not really worried.”

“Why Dipper?”

“Like the Little Dipper,” Keith said. “My dad was a space junkie, in case you didn’t notice.”

Lance laughed and it was mildly unsettling, to have someone be interested in what he was saying. It was a new thing. “What’s she look like?”

He covered Lance’s mouth with his hand before continuing, “Black. With yellow eyes. Don’t say shit about it.”

He could feel Lance’s smirk against his palm, the muffled, “Wasn’t going to, edgelord.”

“This is why we can’t have nice things, Lance,” Keith deadpanned and dropped his hand. Lance picked it up after getting rid of his shirt, spreading his arms wide.

“Have at me.”

 

Scars were never really something he’d thought about. People didn’t really look twice at him, and even if they did, he couldn’t give less fucks about what they thought. He was a fighter and a swordsman, blemish-free skin wasn’t really a must.

Lance thought differently. He knew exactly which scars he liked (diagonal, across his knee, “A Yorkie startled me— Stop laughing! It came out of nowhere! A _dog_ startled me, I fell back into a mirror, and it cut me.”) and which ones he didn’t (down his shoulder, “I got into a fight with my brother and, uh… we didn’t talk for, like, a month after that. Wasn’t pretty.”). Keith’d gotten into the rhythm of kissing each one, to Lance’s delight, paying more attention to the ones he claimed were ugly.

It was nice. It was trust.

He stroked over Lance’s collarbone lightly, “What about these?” They were a peppering of irregular burns, barely noticeable under the faint lighting.

Lance moved his hands from Keith’s thighs, to his waist, wrapping his arms around him. “A lesson to wear a shirt while helping your sister fry up _mandocas._ They’re these little… pastries, I guess?” He smiled sheepishly, “One of my aunts is Venezuelan, so she’s always making them. We’d gone over to her house for a cookout and she gave us a bunch of dough to make at home. Sofi and I were home alone and we couldn’t find the tongs so we just grabbed the spatulas and started flipping them out.”

Keith rose an eyebrow, “That’s stupid.”

“We were starving. Not enough blood in our brains,” he motioned around his head. “Dom’s our impulse control, and he was in band. One of the ‘ _docas_ went haywire, so Sofi had first degree, I got second.”

“I bet that’s because she wasn’t doing it shirtless.”

“Perhaps,” he mused.

Keith nodded slowly, “And the verdict is?”

“I’m okay with them, they aren’t that visible.” He grinned wickedly, leaning in, “But since I know you’ll give a little extra if I say they bother me, I absolutely despise them.”

Keith tilted his head up and their noses brushed. “That’s unfair.”

“You’re not the only one with a dark side,” Lance responded in a serious voice, but it lost its effect when _side_ went all breathy as soon as Keith pressed his mouth over the rise of skin. Dragged down to the hollow before biting. The hand that had been motioning found a place curling into Keith’s hair, and he felt Lance say, “That’s unfair.”

“You’re not the only with a dark side,” he grinned and Lance pulled at his hair teasingly. He nipped at his skin again in response. Looked up and Lance’s expression was less pointed, more clouded over. His fingers were smoothing over the hair he’d pulled.

“Please,” he said, “don’t let me be the reason you stop.”

He hummed and kissed him quickly. Lance chased after his mouth, pressing his head against the wall. Keith shifted, pulling himself forward to settle in Lance’s lap. He stretched his arms over Lance’s shoulders, curling one hand back to touch the nape of his neck.

Lance licked into his mouth, swiping his tongue over Keith’s bottom lip before trapping it between his teeth. Keith opened his eyes to find him smiling, eyes fluttering and letting go, “You taste good.”

A warmth like gold and jewels clinked in his chest and he smiled back, combing both hands through Lance’s hair, “Do I?”

“Mm,” he hummed, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his cheek.

It was languid and lazy and Keith loved it so much. Nine out of ten times they arrived from missions in shambles, exhausted and ready to completely _die_. He was tired, but Lance always found a way to turn on a buzz under his skin and it was actually better than any shot of adrenaline he’d ever fucking experienced.

Lance held his hips and carefully scooted back to lay him down, continuing his kissing down the line of Keith’s jaw. Keith kept his hand at the back of Lance’s neck, tilting his head to give him more access. He twisted his hand into the material under the pillow to keep from twitching. Lance touched his forearm and rubbed his thumb along it, nudging his nose at Keith’s throat. Keith scrunched his nose to keep from laughing.

“I know you’re ticklish,” Lance sang and the vibration of his voice _was_ ticklish, but Keith couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He bit the inside of his cheek, “I don’t know what you mean.”

He could feel Lance’s smile shrink into a smirk, “Bet.”

 _Fuck_ , Keith started trying to escape but Lance tightened his arm around him and buried his face in the side of his neck. He inhaled loudly before blowing short bursts of raspberries against his skin and Keith kicked one of his legs out, _“Lance_ —“

He was fucking _merciless_ , quickly moving from his throat to bow at his stomach. Keith curled in around him, unable to say anything through his snorting. Lance smiled wide, “Not ticklish my _ass_.” He dragged his nails along the bottoms of Keith’s thighs so lightly Keith couldn’t _breathe_ , and he really should’ve just admitted it because he was currently remembering the fact that Lance grew up the youngest out of three and was classically fucking trained.

“Jesus Christ, _stop_ —“

“See, I wanted to make you admit it,” his dragging turned into stroking and he sat back on his heels to look down at him. “But, like… I’m getting really distracted.”

Keith tried to catch his breath, heat slowly creeping up his neck, “You’re getting distracted?”

Lance pulled Keith closer, ducking to kiss his knee, “Your thighs, man.”

“My thighs?”

He splayed out to rest his cheek on Keith’s hip, whining, “Your _thighs_.”

“They’re part of my legs,” he replied slowly, not quite understanding. His face was going red nether the less because Lance turned his head and nipped his skin. He yelped and Lance laid back.

Lance traced a finger over the spot, “You have a scar here too.”

“You just bit me, so it’s expected.”

“Shut up,” his cheeks were pink. “It’s my turn again. Where’d you get this one?”

Keith had to squint to see it through the haze in his head. It curled under his knee, jagged. He remembered having to take the splinters out from around it.

“I was getting chased so I jumped a fence and the fence came down with me.”

Lance mulled it before looking up sharply, “Chased? Someone was chasing you?”

And he would be lying if the sudden fire in Lance’s eyes didn’t do _something_. Keith swallowed down the feeling, “Yeah, but it wasn’t really… a big deal?”

“Who? Why?”

God, having someone… God. Having someone’s _attention_.

“I was really small when I was thirteen and this little gang of jackasses always thought it would be funny to steal my lunch. So one day I took all theirs when they were outside and threw them in the dumpster behind my school.” He shrugged, “They didn’t appreciate it. I got away and my foster mom called my teacher and got them suspended for a week.”

“Serves them right to mess with you,” he spread his hands out low on Keith’s sides, sending shivers into his ribs (his hands were always perpetually cold and Keith had to have some awareness at his back at all times or Lance would come up behind him and stick his fucking _ice blocks_ into Keith’s shirt). He rubbed them up and down to warm them, meeting Keith’s eye and pressing his mouth against the scar. “Y'know, when you're not being dumb, you're pretty brave. You stick your shit out. I love it about you."

He couldn’t bite back the soft grin that took over his face, carefully carding his hand through Lance’s hair. Having someone care. That was what he meant. The overall feeling of it, of Lance genuinely wanting to hear about him and _caring_ was butterflies and sunsets and good things. “I love you.”

He could actually _feel_ the blood rush to Lance’s cheeks with the proximity. His eyes widened then shut as he buried his face into Keith’s thigh, “ _Berga,_ don’t _do_ that.” He drummed all his fingers, “I love you too. You and your gorgeous thighs.”

“I don’t get the thing with my thighs.”

Lance brandished a crooked smile, and _that—_ Wow, _that._ Keith had been so busy talking and almost suffocating to notice Lance. Between his legs. Kissing the insides of his thighs and breathing warm, warm near—

 _Wow, that_.

Lance hummed (near, asin _very_ close proximity). “You don’t have to,” he assured and kissed under the scar now, slowly sucking it into a bruise. There was the buzz again, beating loud in his ears. Lance was patient, spending time on one space before moving on to another.

He cupped his hand over his mouth, muffling the groan threatening to escape. Pleasure like a drug curled around his bones and the feeling sent his blood swirling south. His eyes shuttered closed and Lance moved on to his other thigh, one hand sliding down.

It skimmed his stomach, the waistband of his briefs. His thumb dipped into Keith’s navel.

“Shit,” Keith let the word bleed through his fingers and Lance’s breath stuttered.

Lance came back up near his knee and tugged at Keith’s underwear, “Off?”

Keith absolutely, positively could _not_ answer that without giving Lance ammunition to make fun of him for the next month, so he just nodded. He was already half hard and the release totally didn’t help. He sighed.

Lance took his hand away, twining their fingers together before kissing him. Keith lifted his hips so he could pull his underwear all the way off and Lance took the moment to do the same, dragging against him in one long, slick line.

He gasped into Keith’s mouth, stretching their joined hands out to the wall. Keith moved his hips, the muscles of his stomach quivering from the friction. He couldn’t help the second time, echoing Lance’s gasp.

Lance propped himself up on his elbow, barely pulling away. His mouth was hanging open, eyes shut tight. Keith brushed his hair back, pressing their foreheads together.

“Good?”

“Good,” he nodded, hold in Keith’s hand flexing. “Super good. Just— _Dios_ , okay. How do you…” His eyelashes fluttered against Keith’s cheeks as he opened his eyes. They were beautifully dark, thinly ringed in blue. Keith had to try hard to hear what he was saying, “How do you want to do this?”

Again; very, _very_ hard. “What?”

Lance laughed a bit, “Baby, are _you_ good?” Keith pulled a face and Lance bumped their noses together, “Okay, alright. I mean… Like,” he motioned between them, careful not to move too much, “ _this?”_ Right now? How far do you want it to go?"

This? This. _This._

 _Them_.

He was already hot, sweat building where his legs were wrapped around Lance’s back, but the thought totally overheated him. Maybe it was that, maybe it was the fact his brain and his mouth just generally didn’t associate with each other even when he could think clearly but the second the image flashed through his mind, he said, “I think I want you inside me.”

Contrary to popular belief, Keith had _some_ sense of shame, and here it was, flaming up his neck. Lance went completely blank for a second, like a computer rebooting, before blinking. Once, twice. He was blushing as bad as Keith, but his lips were twitching, half a grin, “Really?”

This wasn’t the first time, just for the record. They’d been together for months now, and they’d passed the marker a little late into the relationship, but once they started it was—

This wasn’t the first time. But it was still new. And Keith had never _said it out loud._

There were options, and he would probably weigh them if he could _think_ so he did what he knew would at least give him the upper hand. He held Lance’s jaw, bringing him down for a hard kiss, “Yeah. Really.”

Lance squeaked, staring stunned when Keith let go. He started nodding slowly, rising off the bed, “Okay. Okay,” he repeated it again, fast, dipping to quickly peck Keith’s temple before dancing back, “One sec. I’m gonna—Go—That. Get.”

“Did I break you?” He held himself up on his elbow, grinning.

Lance shushed him loudly, swiping the towel from the hook and running out. Keith had barely lain back down, covered his face with his hands when Lance stepped back in, waving as the door closed before collapsing against it, “ _Ooh_ shit.”

“What?”

“Pidge. Was in the hallway,” he puffed his cheeks up, slowly letting the air out. The death grip he had on the knot of his towel was loosening, “She asked me if I knew where you were.”

Keith snorted. They hadn’t really meant to hide the fact they were together. At first it was just because they wanted to have it to themselves—now it was just to see how long it would take. So far, Hunk knew, but that was because he never knocked, even as much as they tried warning him.

“What’d you say?”

“No, obviously,” he kicked the towel away, “but she didn’t look at me or anything. Her eyes were all vacant and she had the controller tic.” He twitched his thumb to demonstrate, sitting on the edge of the bed, “It was spooky.”

Keith reached out to thread that hand through his, tugging Lance closer (it was affectionate in a way he would usually hesitate to be, but right now was totally not the time to be worrying about it), “Couldn’t make it to the bathroom?”

Lance smirked a bit, “No, she was there when I was coming back.” He held up the bottle, tossing it at the head of the bed, “I live to please.”

Keith pressed their lips together, muttering, “Stop acting as if I can’t literally feel how hard you are against me right now, Lance.”

Maybe he should’ve been blunt more often because Lance flushed and Keith thrilled. He was triumphant until Lance shifted, covered him completely, “Sure.” Then he wrapped his hand around both of them loosely and bucked his hips. The heat and press of space was the strike of a match, quick along the base of Keith’s spine.

He moaned, head falling back. He knew Lance would be smirking wider if he didn’t have the same reaction. Lance continued the motion, kissing his jaw, torturously careful as he reached behind Keith’s head for the bottle.

Keith heard the cap pop open. Lance gradually stopped, moving his other hand to hold under Keith’s thigh. He spread his legs further and Lance kneeled between them, warming the lube between his fingers, “Good?”

He made a low noise, nodding and closing his eyes. Lance kissed his knee, just like before, and Keith opened them, focusing on Lance’s face. His lips were red like his cheeks, kiss-bitten and set in concentration. Keith made a mental note to leave a mark on the spread of freckles across his chest.

Lance met his eye, biting back a small grin. He twisted his hand into the blankets, a swirl of happiness expanding his heart. Tears sprung to the corners of his eyes at the first burn and he covered them with his arm, taking a shuddering breath. Lance stroked the length of his leg, giving Keith a moment to adjust before pressing deeper.

He relaxed himself down, reminded himself this was Lance, _Lance_. He tapped the hollow of Keith’s knee and Keith didn’t need to hear the question, nodding again.

At two, he was able to enjoy it, taking his arm away to hold Lance’s free hand along his ribs, dipping his fingers in the spaces of his. Lance’s gaze was half-lidded and it made the blue seem brighter around the dark.

Keith fucked himself down on Lance’s fingers, panting when he added the third and barely waiting for the feeling to soften before he squeezed Lance’s hand, “Good. I’m good.”

Lance straightened up slightly, moving his wrist to smooth out the cramp, “Y-You sure?”

He swallowed hard, “Yes. Yeah, Lance, I’m sure.”

He wiped his fingers on the blanket and Keith got up on his knees, touching Lance’s neck, “Sit up.”

Lance was breathing hard, obliging with a hungry weight to his eyes. They widened, realized what was happening as Keith climbed into his lap, letting go and grabbing the bottle to pour some into his hand. Lance settled his hands on Keith’s thighs, rubbing them back and forth like he always did, “Like this? I-I mean, I’m totally not complaining—“

“Then don’t,” Keith said on instinct, quirking half a smirk.

Lance’s hold tightened, and he smiled, almost purring, “Okay, Mr. Casanova, do your thing. I won’t interrupt anymore.”

“Perfect,” he had to get up on his heels, savoring Lance’s strangled gasp when Keith coated him in long strokes. He took a deep breath and Lance kissed the underside of his chin as he guided him in. He cleaned his hand off and settled both on Lance’s shoulders.

They both kind of froze as Keith lowered himself onto him. The stretch, the fill was overpowering and he could’ve come then if he didn’t want to live in this, have this moment for them. He hooked his feet around Lance’s back to keep from moving, the muscles of his stomach shaking from the strain. He gradually unclenched them, Lance leaving his thigh cold to comb the bangs out of his face and wipe the sweat off his forehead.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, cupping his cheek.

God, if Lance could see himself. Gorgeous didn’t even begin to cover it. He was ethereal, one of those Greek gods that made people weep at the sight of their beauty. Keith thought maybe it was one of the most extra things he'd ever thought, but it was so close to the truth. He actually couldn’t do the whole vocal thing at the moment and tell him, so he rested his sweaty forehead against Lance's, twining his hands up into his hair. 

He tilted Lance’s head up to kiss him, prodding open his mouth with his tongue. With the distraction he lifted himself up slow, so he could feel Lance’s groan of his name like a prayer on his tongue before dropping down fast. The drag sent a white hot shot of pleasure exploding up his back.

 _“Keith_ ,” Lance was staring at him, part awe, all _Jesus Christ, this boy’s going to be the death of me_ (he didn’t know if that was what Lance was thinking, but that was what _he_ was thinking). Keith exhaled a laugh against Lance’s lips.

“Like this,” he unleashed this beautifully crooked smile. “Like this is pretty good.”

“I have good ideas.”

“Rarely. Very, very rarely.” His other hand crawled up to hold Keith’s shoulder, kissing him with every word, “Very, very, very—“

Keith repeated the motion, dragging it slower to start trying to build a rhythm. Lance was clutching him now, hands flying back down to his thighs. His eyes were blown wide until they closed and he pushed up as Keith came down. Stars exploded behind his eyelids, and _that_ , that—

“Lance,” he was holding him just as hard, barely able to kiss him, more breathing against his mouth. “There, Lance— _fuck_ — _there_.”

Lance nodded, alternating between his thighs, his back, his sides, murmuring, “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.”

The castle could go up in flames and he wouldn’t notice. Keith already felt as if he was burning, and Lance’s hands were fucking catalysts. Lance met him when he moved and any sense of pace Keith was trying to set up was lost in all the _feeling_ , of Lance groaning reassurances into his throat and branding his shaking hands into his skin. He arched his back as Lance bucked his hips up, hit just the right spot again.

It wasn’t enough. He wanted more, more, he wanted to _move_ —

He didn’t realize he meant to say something yet, flattening his palm on Lance’s shoulder and pushing. They were so close, there wasn’t a point where Lance ended and he began that he didn’t remember Lance couldn’t actually read his goddamn mind. “Down.” Lance’s breath hitched, Keith felt it against his chest, “Lie down.”

Lance nodded, bouncing lightly on the mattress as he hit it and, yeah, _that_ was the angle. He gasped, bracing both hands on Lance’s chest. His hair fell in his face as he bowed his head, trying to breathe again.

“ _Vida_ , I-I’m one hundred percent sure you’re gonna kill me,” Lance said with a shaky smile, back to the iron grip on Keith’s thighs. Keith huffed a laugh and rolled his hips, fingers dipping in the spaces between Lance’s to hold them. He rolled his hips, slow, deep, and Lance’s stuttering moan was all kinds of music. He wanted it played on repeat, and did as he repeated the motion.

“Jesus Christ— _Keith_ —“ He pressed his hands into his shoulders, “Shit. Holy shit.”

It was overwhelming, it—There was so much, with how good it was, how Lance was digging his heels into the bed and causing stars to burst behind Keith’s eyelids, how he was babbling every iteration of his name, Spanish, English, senseless noise. He was never the most vocal, but _God_ , the way Lance was moving was proving him wrong.

Everything was piling up, filling him in a _torturously_ perfect way, and he knew he was close. Lance pulled him down as he came up and Keith needed to—

Take Lance’s hands up, splaying and linking them in the air before pinning them to the bed. Lance’s eyes went wide and Keith bent down in a way that his knees and back would completely hate him for later but he really didn’t care. He pushed back as he pressed their foreheads together, groaning, “Kiss me.”

The heat was corroding him now, with their chests pressed together, sliding with sweat. Lance let go of one of his hands to hold his hips, voice raw, “Dead, I’m dead, I—God, you’re so gorgeous. You’re incredible.”

“Lance,” he couldn’t manage anything else, not with Lance doing as he was told and kissing him. He couldn’t _think_ anything else, pleasure washing over him with a final languid kiss and drag of Lance’s hips.

He held Keith through it, tightened as he followed close behind with a keening call of, _“Keith_ ,” before falling back on the bed. Keith could hear how loud his heart was beating now, in the silence. Just his raging pulse and Lance’s shallow pants.

They grimaced as Keith gingerly got off him to lie down beside him. The pillows were on the opposite end of the bed and he didn’t have the energy to get them. Which was why he already knew what Lance was going to ask when he nudged his ribs, peppering kisses up the side of his face.

“No.”

“You don’t even—“

“I’m not moving.”

“Ke _ith_.” He moved to put an arm over Keith’s waist, hand in a fist on his chest. Keith looked at it and rose an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

“It’s only fair.”

“We just had sex.”

Lance grinned, tapped his fist twice. _“Fair.”_

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he kissed under Keith’s ear, “we just had sex.”

Keith snorted and held up a fist of his own. _One, two, three,_ Keith threw rock to Lance’s scissors.

“Redo!”

“Fair,” Keith murmured, tiredness creeping under his skin. He stifled a yawn and Lance kept grumbling, even as he stood up. He came back with a towel and cleaned them up, then carefully arranged the pillow under Keith’s head. He pulled the blanket over both of them, snaking his arm under Keith’s waist and curling him into his chest. Keith would usually at least attempt to put his boxers back on, but he couldn’t make himself. He fell asleep with Lance untangling his hair, murmuring sleepy _I love you_ ’s into his forehead.

 

Keith wore his jacket zipped and Lance borrowed one of Hunk's hoodies to bundle high around his neck the next morning during breakfast. Hunk eyed them and mouthed _Nasty_ when nobody was looking and Lance stuck his tongue out. Their hands were joined on his thigh under the table, thumb running smooth circles of Keith’s knuckles every time he winced, shifted because of the ache everywhere from his waist down.

It was a good ache though. He wouldn’t trade it for the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i wrote that. wow. also did they play rock paper scissors RIGHT after boning, maybe, but i dont make the rules dont @ me.  
> the final installment of the spiderman au is halfway finished. stay tuned mans ;;)
> 
> dm me a story on my [tumblr](http://mcclainnkogane.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Comments & Kudos are Appreciated <3


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